UnearthingTara:Becoming an Archeologist in Ireland: July 2011

Failte!

I'm excited to share my adventures with all of you! I want your first taste of my life in Ireland to be this poem that I wrote very late one night when I was a Junior in College. Its meaning seems eerily prophetic now. More than anything, I've created this blog to make the actualization of this life-long dream of mine visible to those I love: my friends who are my foundation, my endlessly supportive family, my mentors and co-workers who inspire me, and my former students who have given me enough satisfaction and fulfillment to last two lifetimes... Have the courage to believe that your wildest dreams can come true.

Is fhearr fheuchainn na bhith san duil, (It is better to try than to hope)

Mourn (A Seaside Peak in Southern Ireland)

The dark, earthen sod saturates her fair feet,
but briefly since she frolics fast in knee high
blades of greenest grass that blow dizzily in the Celtic-sea air.

Her wool skirt, stiffened by ware of evenings past
is splashed by cresting waves that break
against a beach blacker than her hair.
Those once stiffer fibers were loosed by nights upon nights
of hanging perfectly on his line before being wildly blown dry
by the crisp Hibernian salt air.

The pair sits to rest a while instead of dodging
breakers or skipping paler stones.

"Indian summer's here," he says softly,
but all of summer here feels like the edge
of autumn to her, even though she grins in agreement
as she dangles her pale, soft feet off Achilles' peak,
where Erin's vermillion-gold sky meets
an ocean that is grey with years.

She sleeps with her eyes closed tight most nights.
He asks her if she believes in Tier-Nan-Og,
and she asks him if he believes in anything eternal.
Outside the tide is rising, or it's receding—
She never can tell but for the strengthened smell of
salty freshness strained through his light, lace curtains.
She thinks to herself that he is like trying to hold the sea 
and she imagines the water running between her fingers--
clenched so tight.

And so, the night calls her out of her sleeping,
like daytime chides her into dreaming.
She slips her white fingers through the holes of an old loose scarf
that affords her more company than warmth
on these newborn autumn evenings. She is off-- 
Night clouds reflect emerald from land to sea,
And the tara that she never eyes from long hours of
staring too far into star blanketed skies,
feels cool against the thickening pads of her pallid feet.

Elisabeth Lewis (2005)

13 July 2011

24 Hours of Booty!

On July 30th I will be cycling all day to fight cancer!
My Booty Page!

Magan and Tina Overcash created the HammerDans team in honor of Magan's late father, Danny Overcash in 2008. I've always participated in this event, but this year is my first year as an official fundraiser and team member.
This cause is very close to my heart, since we sponsor the Keep Pounding Fund which supports Cancer Research Trials like the ones Danny and my Aunt, Mary Frances participated in.
I have a goal of 50 miles in 5 hours. I'm sure the hills, the heat, and the fact that I'm taking a red-eye flight from LAX to get to this event are going to be huge obstacles for me. I know I will think of each one of you as I motivate myself to reach my goal.

Thanks for donating + fighting cancer!
<3, e

10 July 2011

Every stoplight I didnt make/ every chance that I didn't take/ all the nights I went too far/ all the [guys] that broke my heart/ all the doors that I had to close/ the things I thought I knew but I didnt know...

Fate crosses our minds in some small way each day: Is this person meant for me? Is this the right career for me? Is my fortune cookie accurate? Is my plane going to crash on the way to L.A.? Haha, Ok... admittedly, we all ascribe to varying degrees of fatalism. In modern times, few of us have an extreme Shakespearean outlook ("I defy you, stars!") when things go wrong, but many of us read our horoscopes weekly (or have Theresa perform them in a dramatic monologue from the Independent). In a way, we all want some sort of guidepost or heavenly source (like the aforementioned stars) to go to for answers. Even the most cynical, the most existential of us all, need affirmation when we make life-altering decisions on our own.

To catch you up to speed, these have been my life changing decisions as of late:

2007- Move to Boston where nobody knows my name...

2009- Stay in Boston, where I fell in love with more than just the city, and take a job I hate

Dec. 2009- Move back to Chapel Hill, NC. This is something I never even conceived or imagined I could possibly endure. Ever.

January 2010- Take offer for position as English teacher at Jordan-Matthews High School in Siler City, NC

May 2011- Leave JM to pursue my Masters in Archaeology in Ireland

Before I explain myself, I want to make sure you guys hold me accountable in the coming months. There are a few things I don't want this blog to be:

A) Cliche

B) Self-indulgent (wait, aren't all blogs by nature?)

C) Overly emotional and sensationalized

At the risk of breaking Rules A, B, and C...

The unfurling of my fate in these last few months has somehow explained all of those decisions I made in my early adulthood. The title of this post, God knows, will not be the last time I quote song lyrics, and unfortunately, probably not the last time I quote Darius Rucker :) The last line of this song, released this year and creatively entitled "This" is:

Thank God for all I missed because it led me here to this

Hootie, I couldn't agree with you more, so I want to devote the rest of this post to being thankful for what I've gone through to get this point: TFA for turning me down in 2007 just because I cried in my interview and Alia Smith + Jorge Miranda for hiring me in 2007, probably because I cried in my interview; Every School in Boston that had no interest in hiring a girl with a southern accent to teach English (this list is too long to enumerate); Sam, Will, Gary, and John, all for breaking up with me consecutively in 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009...I'm a pretty crap girlfriend, in all fairness, but I would have married any one of you (to Magan's chagrin); Finally, the thing I am most grateful for in all the world and the hardest thing to let go of-- the door I had to close (#107 to be exact) at Jordan-Matthews High School 3 weeks ago.

All of these painful things that felt like losses (and still do) have led me on the pathway to uncovering my greatest, deepest, truest dream. And thus, loss has turned to gain once again †

I want to end each post with a message to my former students, so I guess this is it:

Loss is inescapable, pain is unavoidable. So, the very best we can do is turn our loss into gain and turn our pain into light. There's no need for regrets. Only forward momentum.

Love to all,